


Role-playing (Student/Professor)

by captaincanarynsfw (flabbergabst)



Series: Captain Canary After Dark [8]
Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: F/M, Roleplay
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 18:34:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,598
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22750333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flabbergabst/pseuds/captaincanarynsfw
Relationships: Sara Lance/Leonard Snart
Series: Captain Canary After Dark [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1137911
Comments: 1
Kudos: 21





	Role-playing (Student/Professor)

“Miss Lance. Didn’t expect to see you here so early.”

The sound of Leonard’s footsteps is the only thing to be heard, echoing in the huge, deserted lecture hall as he descends the stairs to the front of the room, where Sara stands by the table there. The instant his voice sounds out behind her, she spins around, feigning surprise to see him. Her cheeks are flushed already, face burning, and when she sees him she shifts her weight from one leg to another, squirming beneath the intensity of his gaze.

“Uh, yeah,” she murmurs softly, as he comes to a stop before her, one hand in his pocket. “I just had something I was kind of hoping to talk to you about, professor.”

Leonard has to struggle not to break character and grin at her, right then, but no – they’re following a script tonight, one Sara had devised, a fantasy she’d constructed: him, the dashing criminal law professor, briefcase in hand, in a grey waistcoat with his sleeves rolled up; her, the shy, bookish law student, clad in a short plaid skirt, tight purple sweater, and glasses that make her look every bit the infatuated pupil.

He hadn’t hesitated to agree to his; of course he hadn’t. Any chance he gets to fulfill another one of Sara’s role play fantasies – and believe him, there have been _many_ – he’s sure as hell going to take.

“Yeah?” he says, as he sets down his briefcase, pops it open, and rummages through it, hardly sparing her a glance. “What’s that?”

Sara licks her lips, folding her arms.

“I’ve been, um, falling behind in class a little, and I messed up pretty bad on our last exam. My GPA’s going to drop if I get a C in here.” Leonard glances up at her briefly, gaze impassive. Sara gulps. “And so I was wondering… if there’s anything I could do for extra credit, maybe?”

He locks his eyes on Sara and closes his briefcase, giving her a critical glance, eyebrows raised. Something in the air between them shifts, and he circles around the desk slowly like a shark in the water, raising his chin.

“Well,” he tells her, straight-faced, “maybe if you studied harder, and paid attention for once instead of daydreaming all the time in here, you wouldn’t be in this situation.”

Her breath hitches, and she lowers her eyes diffidently, in a way so unlike Sara it drives him nuts. “I-I do. Study, I mean. And I try to pay attention, every day, but it’s just… Really hard for me to focus, in this class.”

Another step closer. Then two, until he’s practically looming over her, backing her up so that her ass is pressed against the table. Every inch of her is flushed, from her hairline down to her neck, and her pupils are dilated; she’s the embodiment of desire, head to toe, almost trembling with it. He doesn’t have to check to know how wet she must be beneath that little skirt of hers, squeezing her thighs together tighter and tighter with every step he takes, as if trying to stem the yearning between them.

“And why, exactly,” Leonard undertones, switching on a predatory look in his eyes, “do you think that is?”

Sara gulps, hesitating for a moment, before shaking her head. “I don’t know, sir.”

 _Sir._ Oh, fuck. That hits him like a kick in the chest, knocks all the wind out of him for a moment, and makes his cock twitch in the front of his slacks until he’s straining and bulging almost painfully against the fabric. He’s never seen anything quite so enticing before in his life: Sara playing this innocent, bashful creature brimming with forbidden lust, squirming against him, and it makes his head pound, his heartbeat like a drum in his ears. Before he can exercise any more self-control or hold back, Leonard moves in at once, pressing his body up against hers, hard enough that Sara gasps in surprise and places her hands behind her on the table to steady herself.

“I think, Miss Lance,” he purrs, and leans in to nip lightly at her earlobe, hands dropping to her hips, “that you do.”

His lips migrate to her neck, and her head lolls back slightly to allow him better access, eyelids fluttering shut, lips parting in a gasp, giving in to him so, so easily. She’s so perfectly receptive to his touch, molding herself against his body like clay.

When Sara finally opens her mouth to speak, her voice is high-pitched, breathy. “No… No, I don’t.”

“Uh uh uh,” he mock-chides, pulling back to look her in the eyes as a smirk plays at his lips. “I think you do. And you didn’t really come here for extra credit, did you?”

He plucks her glasses off her nose, sets them aside on the table, and kisses Sara before she can answer. The soft sound of surprise she makes against his mouth, coupled with the way she tenses before melting against him, drives him on, makes him drink her up with even more fervor. He places a hand between her knees and urges them apart, letting him move in closer still, feel the press of her pert little breasts harder against his chest. With sharp, precise movements, he hikes her skirt up around her hips, sits her down on top of the table, and dips a hand between her legs, brushing over her thin lace panties – and the instant he feels how wet she is, and hears her mewl against his lips, he freezes.

He’d expected Sara to be wet, of course, because these scenes always get her off, but he hadn’t expected her to be so fucking unbelievably _soaked_ , so turned on by all this that he can feel his fingers dampening even through her underwear, and heat radiating from her core. Purposefully, he moves up and strokes directly over her clit, feeling the tiny swollen bump over the lace and pausing there briefly to apply pressure to it. Sara twitches almost violently when he does, yanking her lips away to gasp. Her hips stutter towards him when he draws his fingers back, desperate for that contact again, some kind of stimulation, anything. When Leonard moves away to look at her, he finds her with a hazy, hungry look in her eyes, almost shuddering with self-restraint as she tries, doubtlessly, to resist the urge to reach down between her legs with her own fingers and tend to her needs, right here, right in front of him. He thinks he’d go legitimately goddamn insane, if she did.

“Please,” is all she can manage, voice breaking, “Don’t… stop-”

“You didn’t come here for extra credit,” he cuts her off, firmly, trying to ignore the agonizing throbbing of his cock. “Tell me what you _really_ came for.”

Sara doesn’t answer; she just whimpers again, and Leonard doesn’t let the silence linger long between them. Quickly, he reaches out and peels her sweater up and over her head, followed by her blouse beneath it, until she’s clad only in her bra and too-short skirt. Downright weak with desire, she lets him disrobe her without protest, and her hands go for his hair when he leans in to suck at her neck once more, combing through the slick strands.

“You won’t say it?” Leonard drawls, an edge of authority in his voice. “How ‘bout I go ahead and tell you, then?”

Sara opens her mouth to speak, but he continues before she can, speaking in a deep, hypnotic tone, every word even, calm, collected. He’s the epitome of _control_ , though in all honesty he feels like he’s approximately two seconds away from completely losing it, dropping his pants, bending her over the table, and fucking her senseless.

“You came here for me. Because you want me.” Off goes her bra, tumbling down her shoulders, and the instant it’s gone Leonard reaches up, takes her nipples into his fingers, and works the hardened nubs between them as he keeps going, until she’s squirming in her seat again. “I watch you during class. I’m observant. You don’t want anyone to notice your little crush, I know. But you can’t hide it from me.”

Sara just moans; a full-chested, fluttering sound he doesn’t often hear from her. Encouraged, he keeps caressing her nipples, keeps murmuring filthier and filthier things in her ear, like he could make her come just using his voice – and he probably could, given enough time.

“You can’t focus when you watch me. You fantasize about me. You hope no one else notices the way your cheeks flush, the way your breathing speeds up… the way your press your thighs together in your seat, imagine all the things I could do to you. The way you wish you could reach down, spread your legs, and touch yourself right there, right in class, for me.” He’s almost positive Sara stops breathing, right then. He smirks. “And every day you leave, your panties soaked, heart racing, so wet that I’m all you can think about. You run home. Fuck yourself on your fingers, thinking of me. And you can’t wait for the next class, when you can do it all over again.” Leonard pauses, and gulps, steadying his voice, his lips just ghosting against hers. “Tell me I’m wrong.”

“No,” she whimpers, and shakes her head, arching forward, trying to touch her lips to his but being thwarted when he pulls back. “N-no, you’re not. I can’t… _think_ about anyone besides you, and… I want you so bad, and-”

“What do you think about?” His grin is wolfish now, his fingers stroking her over her sopping panties and sliding just inside, but always stopping short of actually touching her, and he can tell the indirect stimulation is driving her crazy. “This? Did you fantasize about this, me having you on my desk?” Leonard pauses, kissing idly at her jawline as she tilts her head back to allow him better access. “Or me having you _bent over_ my desk?”

Sara doesn’t answer, at first. She just nods, flushed as red as a tomato, a layer of perspiration glistening on her forehead, lips parted sensuously, and _God_ if they weren’t playing parts right now, Leonard would’ve fucked her ages ago and been on round two by now. She’s the picture of lust, his every fantasy come to life right before him, wet between her legs and writhing and begging, and fuck, he’s about five seconds away from coming in his pants like a damn teenager.

Finally, she manages to find her voice. “We can’t, here, someone’ll see-”

“Good,” he rasps, and pushes her panties out of the way abruptly, teasing two fingers around her entrance and feeling her flutter beneath his touch. Her hips buck up for the umpteenth time, as she tries to elevate her whole body off the table and up towards him, to no avail. “Let ‘em. I’ll fuck you in front of the whole class. Have them watch. Listen to the way I make you moan. Make you come, right here in front of all of ‘em. Everyone’ll know. I _want_ them to know.”

Though she moans at the thought, Sara simultaneously manages a breathless laugh, a glimmer of her real self peeking through for an instant. “I think… that would get you fired, sir.”

Leonard doesn’t say anything to that. Instead, in one sudden, rough movement, he pulls Sara down off the table, spins her around, and bends her over it instead, stealing the laugh right off her tongue and replacing it with a cry of surprise. He doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t ask if he’s hurt her; he just peels up her skirt and leans over to speak in her ear, his voice deep, more threatening than seductive.

“Keep quiet, Miss Lance. We get interrupted, you don’t get what you want.”

Every time he calls her that Sara shudders, and he hears her breath hitch in her throat again, and she nods. Sara shifts on her stomach, trying to get comfortable and keep still, but she starts squirming all over again when he reaches his hand inside her panties and glides his hand across her drenched folds, then up higher, to work her clit back and forth. She gives a half-growl of frustration, grabbing onto the edge of the table so hard her knuckles pale, clearly growing weary of foreplay judging by the way her wetness positively spills down her inner thighs, making his fingers slick and sticky.

Leonard doesn’t waste much time, after that. He undoes his belt, fumbling with the clasp, and yanking down his zipper, freeing his cock, taking it into hand, and placing it between her quivering folds, just short of slipping inside her, so torturously close to her heat that it almost causes him physical pain. Predictably, Sara makes a high-pitched little sound of indignation at the feeling, rocking her hips back in search of him, as if to pull him in somehow. A fresh rush of wetness coats his tip when she does, and it takes every ounce of willpower in Leonard right then to hold back and feign composure, when really he’s almost shaking with restraint at the sight of Sara: skirt hiked up, bare ass raised, urging him to mount her from behind.

“So what?” he manages to ask. “You gonna ask me nicel-”

“God, just fucking _fuck_ me already,” she hisses, not content to play along anymore, apparently.

Leonard just grins. “If you insist.”

He’s not about to argue with that, not when he’s so close to losing it he can feel his head swimming, so he obeys in one swift thrust, plunging as far into her as he can go, almost bottoming out. Sara doesn’t even attempt to stifle her moan when he does, and lets it echo shamelessly in the empty lecture hall, reverberating off the rafters and mingling with the sound of his own growl. Leonard only stays still for a moment, however, and after it passes, he sets a wild pace, pistoning in and out of her depths, grabbing her hips for leverage, practically drubbing her, and she’s moaning freely and wantonly, the sound like the most beautiful music he’s ever heard in his life.

Her cries alternate in pitch: from high, breathy ones, to low, hoarse ones that come from deep in her chest, as he picks up the pace and fucks her harder, watching his length disappear in and out of her as she takes him, over and over. It’s almost obscene; the rhythm of skin slapping skin, the wet squelching noise where they’re joined, the fucking _sounds_ they both make, like two beasts. And he’s losing it, overcome by the feeling of her walls around him, tight, fitting around his cock so divinely like silk, and he’s so close that his vision is whiting out, and-

But no. He’s not done with this script, tonight.

He’s still got a part to play, as far as he’s concerned, and so it takes everything in him right then to pull out of Sara, spin her back around to face him, and settle her down onto the table again. The sound she makes when he slides out is almost inhuman, and the feeling of leaving her hurts like hell, the sudden sensation of the cold air on his dick downright fucking agony. They both groan, and Sara looks furious enough to throttle him, blissed out and pissed off.

Her voice comes out in a choked, growled sob. “Why’d you stop – why’d you-”

The words die on her tongue, however, when Leonard reaches down and presses two of his thick fingers inside her instead, taking the place of his cock. They’re slick in mere seconds, enough for him to add a third and curl them in just the right way, slipping further and further inside her, until he finds it – that rough, overly-sensitive spot he knows will drive Sara off the deep end, make every inch of her come undone, and the way he’ll make her come, make her _gush_ … He applies pressure to it mercilessly, driven on by the thought, and her reaction is immediate: her moans escalate in pitch, and her legs tighten around him, and she starts making sounds, low throaty _oh’s_ and _ah’s_ , that let him know he’s hit gold.

“You want that extra credit?” he almost snarls the words. “Come. _Hard_. All over my hand. All over this _desk_.”

Sara pants half-hysterically, shaking her head. “No – no, I can’t, don’t, it’ll… make a mess, I-”

But he doesn’t let up, driving his fingers in and out viciously, so fast he can hear her walls suctioning wetly around them. “You can’t help it, that it feels so good. I’m makin’ you…”

“God – _God_ , no-”

“Come. _Now_ , Miss Lance.”

That’s all it takes for Sara. She tenses, and throws her head back, and with a sound like a mixture of a sob and a groan, she lets go, spiraling off the edge. She soaks his hand in a hot burst; his wrist, the table beneath her, like only he can make her do, and watching Sara come like that, watching her gush so hard her thighs quiver, so hard that her face contorts in ecstasy, so hard that she blubbers and weeps, her words nonsensical… It nearly does Leonard in, too. Before she’s even had time to recover, he slides his fingers out and lets his cock take their place once more, and he fucks her through her orgasm as the waves build and crest, prolonging it for her as long as he possibly can. She’s even wetter now than before, so wet he doesn’t know how it’s humanly possible; so wet she can probably hardly even feel him – but then Sara opens her eyes, looking well and truly fucked, and gives him a loopy little smile as she comes down, hints of herself shining through the mask she’d put on tonight, and he knows she does feel him. She always does.

“Come inside me,” she mutters in his ear, reaching her hands down to squeeze his ass, reciting one last whispered line. “I’ve wondered… how it would feel for so long. I wanna feel you…”

It’s all too much. His orgasm is bubbling underneath the surface of his skin, careening toward him like a freight train. Sara had come on command, at the drop of a hat, all over him. Now she’s asking him to come inside her, _fill_ her, right where she can feel him, and _fuck_ , that does him in. He’s always prided himself on having kickass stamina, but after this, and taking in the sight of Sara now, he’s not sure how he lasted more than a few _seconds_. So he buries his face into her throat and comes with a growl, spilling inside her just as her cunt stops fluttering and clenching in the wake of her own climax. Sara gasps when he does, as if still playing her part, feigning shock to feel him come inside her, messy and hot, marking her as his territory. Claiming her, in the most intimate way.

They stay like that for a minute or so: him still buried inside her, as they both try to catch their breaths, while Sara strokes his hair idly with one hand. Finally, Leonard manages to come to his senses and pulls out, tucking himself away, then leaning in to press a kiss to her lips.

“Fuck,” he mutters after he moves back, rather inarticulately, and wipes his damp fingers off on his slacks. “Jesus, that was hot.”

She laughs breathlessly. “Best one yet.”

“Yeah?” Leonard smirks, pecking her on the lips again. “Even better than ‘Sexy prosecutor extracts confession from naughty criminal?’ Or… ‘Bank robber ravishes arresting officer?’”

Sara scoffs. “Okay, if you don’t stop coming up with porno titles for the scenes we do, I’m going to break up with you.”

“Aw c’mon. Don't pretend like that's not your favorite part – and besides, you’d never,” he purrs. “’Specially after I just made you come your brains out like that.”

“Yeah, and _that_ wasn’t part of the plan,” she chides, glancing down at the little puddle between her legs, dripping down off the table onto the floor. She considers it briefly, apparently not at all fazed, before reaching over to grab her blouse. “The janitor is gonna wonder what the hell happened here.”

Leonard shrugs, nonchalant. “They are going to clean up anyways.”

“I'm not sure that applies to body fluids left from illicit sex after hours.”

Leonard ignores that. “Anyway, speakin’ of the janitor, he should be making his rounds soon. Every forty-five minutes. So we gotta scram.”

As if she’d hoped to go another round, a look of disappointment flashes in Sara’s eyes, but she gets to her feet nonetheless, knees shaking, stance still unsteady from the force of her orgasm. He helps hold her up until she’s stable again, and as soon as she’s slipped her clothes back on, he reaches for his briefcase and takes a step toward the door, with Sara following at his side. With mischief in his eyes, Leonard reaches down and rests his hand on her ass as they walk out. He gives it a firm pat just as they step outside the doorway, prompting her to yelp in surprise, then glare at him.

“And for the record, Miss Lance,” he teases, raising his arm, curling it around her shoulders, and drawing her close, “you _definitely_ earned that extra credit in my book.”


End file.
